


homes, places we've grown

by orphan_account



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7085188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gyatso would've liked you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	homes, places we've grown

**Author's Note:**

> i marathoned atla and then sat down to study and wrote this instead. it's set in some ambiguous time after zuko joins the gaang and before sozin's comet, obvs. idek guys. title is from clairity's 'don't panic'

Zuko wakes up and the space where Aang should be is empty and cold. The sun’s barely in the sky, hanging low and early on the crest of the horizon, and Zuko follows the path of its light through the small copse of trees towards the outcrop of rock he’d noticed late yesterday afternoon when they’d flown past to make camp. Sure enough, there’s already a small figure perched on the edge when he gets there, tattoos dim and almost invisible in the half-light of dawn.

Zuko sits and waits. Aang looks as though he’s standing still, but the longer Zuko watches the more he realises that the airbender is actually moving, slow and gentle sweeps of his arms and legs that are so incremental they seem non-existent. Aang continues in the exercises and Zuko realises that they’re just slowed-down airbending manoeuvrers, only without the airbending. It looks almost like a form of meditation, a yoga of the mind as well as the body, and it’s hypnotising.

Aang pivots slowly on his heel and locks his gaze with Zuko’s. He smiles in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have spied on you,” Zuko says, scrambling to his feet. Aang gives a small shrug and lifts himself up on his tiptoes, balancing carefully as he slowly pushes his arms out in front of him.

“I don’t mind,” he says quietly, when Zuko is about to turn and leave. “It’d be nice to have some company.” He lowers himself down onto the soles of his feet and relaxes his stance. “Come on, I’ll show you a few moves I used to do with Gyatso.”

Zuko approaches warily. “I’m not an airbender,” he says, jumping lightly onto the rock beside Aang and scratching the back of his neck. Aang rolls his eyes and smiles again.

“We’re not airbending. Now come on, do what I’m doing.”

Zuko copies Aang’s careful stance and together they move through a flow of movements, faster than what Aang was doing before but still much slower than they would ever be in a real battle. Aang has his eyes closed and his face turned towards the sun, and Zuko has to look away. He misses a step in the next move and trips.

“I’m sorry, I’m no good at this. It’s too—well, slow,” he says apologetically, and Aang opens his eyes to grin at him.

“That’s what I used to say to Gyatso. He’d look at me and say,” Aang assumes a scrunched-up expression on his face Zuko assumes is meant to imitate wrinkles, “ _The true airbender knows when to be quick as a gale and when to be slow as still water. Only in softness do we understand what it is to be strong._ ” His voice cracks a little on the last word and he begins to laugh quietly, eyes distant in a way Zuko’s never seen them. He waits for Aang to speak again. “He always knew what I was. Who I’d become. And he didn’t treat me any differently because of it.” _Unlike others_ , he doesn’t say. Zuko slowly lowers himself to the ground and crosses his legs. After a moment, Aang joins him.

“I’d like to hear about them,” he says gently, and Aang flinches. “Only if you want to. You don’t have to.” Zuko shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay.” Aang’s voice is quiet but steely, and reminds Zuko of Iroh. “I always forget people don’t know about them. It’s hard to think of it as a hundred years ago when for me it was—it was last winter.” He picks at the grass growing up through the cracks in the rock. “They were my family. My teachers, sure, but more than that. And my friends were my family too. We used to have air scooter races along the outside walls and Gyatso used to pretend not to see. He was—kind.” Aang swallows. “I loved him. I loved all of them. And then I ran away and left them to die.” He meets Zuko’s eye for the first time since they sat down. “I _left_ them, Zuko. I left thinking I was saving myself and I woke up and realised I should’ve been saving them instead. I—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Aang,” Zuko tells him, reaching out to take the hand clenched into a fist as hard as the rock they’re sitting on. Aang resists for a moment but then sighs, loosening his grip and brushing his fingertips against Zuko’s wrist. “It’s no-one’s fault but Sozin’s. You were a kid, Aang. You’re still a kid. You can’t expect so much from yourself, not then and—” He breaks off awkwardly.

“Not now?” Aang says after a moment, voice wry. “I shouldn’t expect to defeat Ozai because I’m just a kid? I don’t exactly have that luxury, Zuko.”

“I know, I—that’s not what I meant.” Zuko looks away.

“I know,” Aang replies quietly, squeezing Zuko’s wrist before letting go. “I wish you could’ve met them. Gyatso would’ve liked you.”

Zuko meets Aang’s gaze, both soft and unyielding. “I wish I could’ve met them too,” he says softly. They sit together on the outcrop in silence, watching the sun rise over the earth and the trees and the sky, and if sometimes Zuko watches Aang too, well, there’s no-one here to judge him.


End file.
